


Currents

by Isagel



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Multi, OT4, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-21
Updated: 2011-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isagel/pseuds/Isagel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Earth, shortly after the series finale. They take a jumper out one night, just the four of them, almost like old times...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Currents

They take a jumper out one night, just the four of them, almost like old times. Through the roof of the jumper bay, leaving the great bridge called Golden Gate behind them to soar low along the coast of the land John and Rodney name California, where Teyla knows they have both lived, before, when Earth was their only world. It is not strictly speaking an approved outing, but the ship is cloaked, and Woolsey did not object - relieved, perhaps, to see John do something with the pent-up energy that seems to have him pacing the city since their landing in these waters. He looks calmer like this, beside her in the pilot's seat, his hands certain and gentle on the controls as ever, but when she glances over at him, she still sees the tightness of his jaw, the darker shadows under his eyes. He looks out the windscreen, not at them.

The single moon is nearing full, and the sea glitters silver beneath them, the sand of the outstretched beaches near fluorescent in its light. Further inland, along the edges of steep cliffs, she catches the moving lights from the cars she knows from so many Earth movies, although she has barely ever seen such machines with her own eyes. It is beautiful, the night-time landscape, beautiful and filled - _brimming_ \- with life, and she does not for a moment blame those who wish to remain here. It is their home.

They do not speak, and she thinks perhaps all they will do is fly, rest in the familiarity of sharing this space, sharing a journey, but then the jumper slows, and John takes it down to land on a deserted strip of shore. He opens the hatch, and they step out onto the sand, Ronon and Rodney before her, John at her back. The cliff behind them is tall and dark, the sea breaking loud against the land. She turns her face into the wind so that her hair falls away from her eyes.

"This is a lovely place, John," she says, and it is, the moon painting a line into infinity across the ocean, the air vibrant with salt and seaweed and the sweet fragrance of some plant that must grow along the bottom of the cliff. She looks at the waves, thinks that in another time, John must have come here with one of those surfboards he is so fond of. She longs suddenly to hold him.

"Should have brought a picnic basket," Rodney says, and then, in a tone she associates with his reaction to John's choices of movies to watch or games to play, "Oh, please don't tell me this is a skinny-dipping excursion."

Ronon laughs, a low, warm rumble at her side, and John says,

"It's a trip to the seaside, McKay. If you feel the urge to take your clothes off, that's up to you."

It sounds lazy, teasing, but there is a strain beneath the surface of John's voice that she has been hearing more and more of late. Rodney must hear it, too, because she sees his mouth open and close, his eyes fixed on John, but no words come out.

She steps out of her sandals, the sand cool between her bare toes, and moves towards the water.

“It does look inviting,” she says.

She stops where the ground is wet, lets the waves lap at her feet. The water is just cool enough to be refreshing. She is wearing her favorite training skirt, and the leather folds are parted by the breeze, its caress trailing up her legs.

She turns, smiling, and holds out her hand.

“Come on,” she says.

Ronon grins, the flash of teeth very bright in the darkness, and bends to pull his boots off, throwing them down on the sand. He runs the few steps to her and takes her by the waist, lifts her in an easy, sweeping arch through the air and puts her down where the water reaches to her knees. The bottoms of his suede pants get as wet as her skirt, but they are both laughing, leaning into each other with the current of the sea surging round their legs. Where her hand grips his shoulder, his hair falls tickling across her knuckles.

“I don’t know if they’ll let us go back,” John says. His voice is quiet and sharp over the sound of the sea, but when she turns, she cannot make out his face, only the white shape of his civilian shirt. “Now that we’re here, I don’t see why they’d let Atlantis go. The chair, all those weapons and technology. It doesn’t make sense to let us fly her home.”

She thinks of her child, of Torren waiting for her in his father’s arms all the way across the galaxies, across the empty, starless space between. She knows if she asks, the Daedalus will take her there, to be with them. But these men are her home, as well. She has never wanted to choose.

Behind John, Rodney takes a step forward, comes closer.

“Jennifer thinks it doesn’t matter,” he says. “We had this…” He waves his hands, a gesture both angry and defeated. “…this _argument_ , before she went off to visit her parents. She thinks if we have the city, that’s what matters, that having it in the Milky Way might be just fine. As if Pegasus isn’t the entire _point_.”

“Earth is…” John tips his head back, his eyes towards the moon, gestures at nothing and everything - the beach, the cliff, the blackness of the ocean. He gives an ugly snort that could be laughter, could be a sob. “Fuck, Earth is all _this_. And all I want to do is leave.”

“Then we’ll leave,” Ronon says. As simple as that. He strokes his fingers over Teyla’s hips as he lets her go, and walks through the water to Sheppard. Lays his hands on John’s shoulders. “If we want to leave, we’ll leave. Not like they can stop us with you in that chair.”

“Buddy, that's crazy,” Sheppard says. But Teyla has moved close enough to see the hint of hope in the curve of his lips; in his voice, she can hear him considering.

“It could work,” Rodney says. “I’d have to think about the details, but it could work.”

John turns his head to look at him.

“You’d come?” he asks. “I mean, a lot of stuff has changed, and…”

“If you’re going to be this much of an idiot, I will certainly live to regret it,” Rodney snaps, and John rolls his eyes, but he’s almost smiling.

Teyla reaches out and takes his hand in hers.

“We will go home, John,” she says. “Together.”

John lifts her hand to his lips and brushes a kiss, almost shy, against her knuckles.

“Home it is,” he says.

When Teyla closes her eyes, she can nearly imagine that the sound of the waves comes from a different ocean.

She cannot wait to dip her feet in its waters.


End file.
